Different in Time
by Imry
Summary: “The distance aches more than he thought it would.” Tag for 2.17 'The Captain's Hand'


Notes: Thanks to Pen and Liz for the betas, and Rawles for enabling. Title cribbed from 'Ribbons' by Carina Round. Please don't archive without permission

----

His office is spacious and private, both of which have become extravagant luxuries in the overcrowded fleet. Still, it feels too large for him sometimes, when he's sitting alone at his desk with only his paperwork and the faint hum of the engines for company. It's easy to let the solitude lull him half to sleep, so the words on the pages jump around and rearrange themselves of their own volition.

A sharp rap on the door startles him out of his stupor, and it takes the room around him a second to resolve itself into something he can recognize.

"Come in," he says, doing his best to make it sound authoritative.

When the door opens and Kara walks in, he's pretty sure he's dreaming. When she salutes crisply, he's almost certain of it. She looks almost like she respects his rank. He stares at her for a moment, but the overwhelming absurdity of the situation is too much.

"Kara, please."

She drops the salute quickly, smiles at him lopsidedly, in a way that doesn't quite reach her eyes. A neat brown folder lands on his desk, scattering paper everywhere. He remembers suddenly how they used to do flight rosters on the floor of the bunkroom, and she'd throw bits of paper at him until he gave up and wrestled her into a headlock. He wonders who those people were, and whether they died in a dogfight, or in a deck accident, or just slipped away in the night like shadows.

"Personnel reports. The Admiral wanted you to have them," she says by way of explanation.

"What did you do, to get stuck doing courier duty?" It's supposed to be a gentle ribbing, a segue into the easy banter that keeps them from saying anything too honest, but her jaw clenches and her eyes go stony.

"I asked to come." Her manner softens, just a little. "I haven't seen you in forever," she says, and it sounds like an accusation.

He looks at her- really looks at her, with her perfect posture and neatly pressed uniform, and finds he has no idea who she is. A month and a half, and she has changed almost beyond his comprehension.

He sighs, shuffles papers together and dumps them unceremoniously on the floor. He motions for her to sit down, and is relieved when her slouch is the same as ever.

"Drink?"

Her smile reaches all the way to her eyes this time.

--

_The only sound in the room is their breathing, gradually slowing and evening. She writes words on his chest, and his fingers find the spaces between her ribs when she breathes. He doesn't glance over at the clock, because their time is too short as it is. He doesn't need to spoil it by counting down the seconds until she has to go. _

_It's been an age and no time at all when she stirs, kisses his neck once and starts casting around for her clothes. Regret remains a heavy weight on his chest, where her body used to be._

--

She considers the inch of amber liquid carefully, like she's scrying for something in the bottom of her glass.

"Do you ever miss it?" she asks abruptly.

He considers for a moment, nods slowly. "Yeah. I do." Takes a drink, to avoid having to look at her.

He doesn't tell her about the dreams he has, of walking through _Pegasus_' corridors, with the stars piercing through the hull. _You let us go_, they say. He certainly doesn't tell her that sometimes they speak with her voice. Sometimes with Dee's. But he tries not to think about _that _anymore. And he knows she doesn't.

His shoulder twinges, and he thinks suddenly of water.

--

_The comm traffic crackles intermittently throughout CIC, fading into background noise he barely notices. Showboat is running flight rosters past him, and he's doing a fairly good job of pretending he's listening when Kara's voice comes over the speakers, coolly requesting permission to land. His head jerks up and he knows he's blown his charade but can't quite bring himself to care. _

_The walk down to the hangar deck is interminably long, and it cuts in cruelly to the short time he has with her. He walks as briskly as he can without causing alarm, and wonderis what small ridiculous errand she's contrived this time._

_She steps off the raptor, all business and military precision. She salutes, and he returns it and hopes no one bothers to ask why the commander of a Battlestar came down himself to greet a captain. He suppresses the urge to kiss her, here on a deck full of people. It's not the first time he's wanted to- that first time is lost in a haze of guilt and memory and running. But it is the first time it's been a distinct possibility he might do it. _

_He leads her away from the deck, talking of CAP rotations and asking after his father. She is very careful to call him 'sir' and he is very, very careful not to touch her. _

_The second his door shuts behind him, she shoves him into it, all hands and lips and _now. _It's been far too long._

--

There are lines etched around her eyes. He recognizes them because he's seen the same staring out at him from the mirror in the morning.

They always have done things together.

She says something that's not particularly funny, but he doubles up and laughs until he's gasping and his face hurts. She's laughing too, and with him or at him, it doesn't matter. It's only then that he realizes he can't remember the last time he laughed like that, and he misses her all the more.

--

_Her hips rock slowly, achingly so and he's caught between the desire to have more of her, now, and the need to make this last as long as they can. _

_Time stretches, shifts, the single moment of an FTL jump suspended in her slow honey kisses and half-choked whimpers. When he comes he digs his fingers into her hips, hard, in a way that says: _Remember this. _She bites his neck, and it's a promise. _

--

"I miss you," he says without thinking. The distance aches more than he thought it would.

"Me too," she says softly. A sudden flood of stories springs to his lips- he wants to tell her about his crew, their iron-clad formality that barely masks their distrust, about the hundred little things he has to deal with every second and the pressure that's accumulating inside his head. But he doesn't because she has her own stories and it's time he forgot instead of remembered.

So he kisses her instead.

--

"_Don't go," he asks. It's a pointless request. They both know she has to, and she's already raised suspicion by staying this long. Each time she visits, she stays a little longer, and takes a little more of him with her when she leaves. Sometimes he wonders what will remain._

"_I don't have a choice, Lee." _

"_I know," he says with a sigh. They have their duties to attend to, and _Galactica_ needs her. _

_She kisses him goodbye, soft and lingering. It's the only thing she can leave behind._

_--_

She freezes at first, and he curses himself for an idiot, but then her hands come up and her fingers thread through his hair and she's kissing him back so hard it almost hurts.

Everything blurs into kisses and frantic movement, and they're almost to the bed and more than half-undressed by the time he regains his wits enough to pull back. He cups her face in his hands, looks her straight in the eye.

"Kara," he says, a question.

"Lee," she says with certainty. An answer.

--

_She sits up slowly, and he runs a hand down her back idly. She shivers, a barely perceptible movement that resonates through his fingertips. He watches the play of muscle under skin, the flex of her shoulder blades that look like wings when she sighs. _

"_Stay. Please." He murmurs into the back of her neck. She turns to look at him, caught. It's late and she's off shift, doesn't need to be back to _Galactica_ for another six hours. He points all this out to her, and she counters by saying it'll be more fodder for the rumour mill, though he can feel her resolve start to crumble in the way her body softens against him. The rumour mill can go frak itself, and she laughs softly at that. He pulls her down to lie beside him, and she doesn't protest. _

_He knows she'll be gone when he wakes._

--

She wanders about the room awkwardly, searching for her clothes. He helps her, tossing her a shirt or picking up her jacket from where it lies crumpled on the floor. He should probably say something, but nothing adequate comes to mind. _I'm sorry_ won't do, because he's _not_, and _thanks_ is callous and doesn't even begin to cover it. Soon enough she stands before him, fully clothed and almost as precisely put-together as she was when she walked in. She smiles, though it's got uncertain edges. He kisses her again, because it seems like a good idea and saying too much right now will only frak them up.

"Come back," he says, and he shouldn't sound that desperate.

She kisses him again, briefly. "When I can."

It's the best they can do.

-_Fin_


End file.
